The Animal
by Xyliette
Summary: It's easier to untangle himself from the wreckage than he thought it would be. Alex/Addison.


A/N: Apparently it is the summer where I have the urge to write a million things I would have never considered before. I've been staring at this for weeks, but sleep seems elusive this evening so here we are. Be gentle and enjoy-

**_~-~-~-~-~-~-~  
The Animal  
- Richard Walters  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~_**

Certainly family life had its appeal to some, namely one Addison Montgomery, but for Alex the idea of Saturday afternoon picnics with bugs crawling over rotting fruit and painful tee-ball games spent trying not to fall asleep in the hard seated stands were things he could do completely without. He could live without three in the morning feedings, and frantic calls from schools who were without a clue what to do with a barely scraped knee. He didn't need little frilly socks, diapers, or amazingly annoying toys that blared their presence at every opportunity.

But he discovered, pretty quickly after Addison's ashamed return, that he did need her. To help him weather through the storm of his divorce, to force his hand when he once again started to shield himself away from babies and play in plastics land (though a fatal accident also aided his decision). He needed their late night coffee breaks when they mutually agreed that there was no point in going home to empty, cluttered rooms full of history, and he needed their Sunday brunches of stale cart muffins and the Sports section of the Times over his knees while they updates charts and got ready for the next week of helpless patients.

And at some point through their non-courting, Alex began to realize why his heart sped up when he heard her notorious heels coming near, and why his eyes never seemed to leave her when she was in the room.

Then it took him six months to gain the courage, and three more weeks after that to ask her to dinner. It was met with staunch chuckle, a quick acceptance, and the rest was as much of a whirlwind as anything else in his life.

Amelie came first, a combination of a hundred names that Addison wanted to use- Amelia (who inadvertently ended up delivering the poor child in a restaurant bathroom), Adele (grandmother extraordinaire), and Callie (because she was one of their very few mutual friends). Amelie was planned for, tried for, cried over, and feared for. It was unequivocally the most excruciating eleven months of Alex's life, riddled with cravings, pains, and fertility treatments galore.

And he wasn't going to do it again. So they savored her, drank in every coo, every blink, and every flexed finger. But true to his own devotion, he complied with Addison's drying tears over her baby growing up (something Alex would never admit he understood too well) and they tried once more. And even when he was convinced they'd already cheated fate enough, someone saw it fit to give them another miracle in the form of Avery, the name which Addison was adamant about no matter the sex, though Alex was secretly glad it was a girl, because the last thing the world needed was more douchey guys with questionably girlish names.

And thus they became the all A family, something that rubbed Alex the wrong way each time it was brought up (whenever someone needed to name something, happening with alarming frequency as of late). And he cleaned vomit out of rugs, threw birthday parties with bouquets of helium balloons, came home every night and curled up around the same woman, and in general, surprised himself every day with how domesticated he had allowed himself to become.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

They do fight, they banter, and they argue. It's part of the appeal Alex finds in Addison, they are equally matched (or so he believes) in wit and intelligence, and it makes for interesting contests over preschools and cupcakes vs. 'real' cake, the most corrective action for patients, and the tough calls like what is for dinner. And on certain occasions, there have been some well documented all out brawls that leave Addison crying and Alex feeling like an ass (one time, vice versa).

For instance, this specific morning leaves Alex beating down a bathroom door, his fists red, his voice terrified. "Come on Addison, I didn't mean it. I didn't!" And he knows that she knows he didn't mean to say what he said, but that sometimes he's an asshole who speaks callously and every so often even maliciously. "We have work in thirty minutes, I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

And he pleads silently the entire way down the stairs that he'll be able to hear their door creak open (because he does not need to deal with this at work, no matter how professional their relationship), her light footsteps behind them as they prepare to kiss the kids goodbye, kiss each other goodbye, and switch into doctor mode, but it never comes. He tells his girls to have a good day with their nanny, even though Avery understands nothing, and Amelie throws a typical tantrum (something they both attribute to one another's personalities), but eventually he makes it out to the garage and the pricey car Addison bought for his birthday last year when he promised her he wanted absolutely nothing but a full day in bed with her and a glorious breakfast.

However, he did steal that day in bed, wrapped up in sheets trying to shield themselves from the flu that was circulating the pit the week before.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"False positive," Addison announces defeated, busting into her own office where Alex works from primarily.

He didn't mean it when he said they had enough children, that their hands were full as it was, but the look on her face only aides him in feeling like the worst guy in the world. "Addison-"

"Do-n't," she stammers, drawing in the refuge of her closed blinds. "Just sit...and chart," she instructs, taking to the couch and pulling her knees to her chest. "Our interns did a horrible job last night."

"I'm sorry," he offers lamely, looking away at her defensive position.

He tries to explain it three days later. They've been so blessed already, Avery is still very young, they weren't even trying for a child. But nothing pulls her out of her funk.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"I want more, I wanted more," Addison tells him secretly the following Monday, sliding next to him up at the nurses station. "Don't say- what you want- just, I was excited."

"Ok," he nods, taking her not-so subtle hint to leave it be. And it's no wonder that Addison wants a whole posse of children, he just thought they both understood that wasn't their reality.

Apparently he was mistaken.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

It takes two months to get it back to normal. Two months to get her to finally respond with some essence of life to his mundane questions, to watch her spring back while helping Avery toddle through the downstairs, to see her teaching Amelie things she may never need to know about the world in preparation for the kindergarten class she will outshine everyone in (and God, he loves his kid, but she can be such a know-it-all brat already that he honestly doesn't think she needs any help).

And at the two month mark he realizes just how big of a deal this was for Addison. He bounced back before he even fell apart, it was nothing to him because it wasn't real, ever. But for her, it was, for heaven only knows how long. So that night he calls Callie to watch the crazy clowns so he can take Addison out, dinner, dancing, walking sidewalks, whatever she wants.

In the end what she wants is to be home, cuddled up in a heap on their well-used couch, the television rambling about cartoons that no one is watching because Avery is asleep against Addison's chest, Amelie is coloring, Addison is drained, and Alex is busy watching all of his girls. Callie excused herself after dinner, citing a need to get back to Arizona and they both apologized for the hasty intrusion on her evening.

He shuffles them all upstairs to their beds, holding Addison tightly, even when she kicks him at midnight and tells him to let go, because he can't.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"Purple, pink, yellow, who cares?" Alex asks, frustrated, standing behind Addison in their oldest daughter's room.

"She does," Addison informs him. As a big girl decision, Addison has turned over creative license of Amelie's room to the master herself, and Alex is four seconds away from going to the paint store and returning with whatever color he damn well feels like. First it was butterflies, and then "Daddy no! Dinosaurs!" and then a garden theme, and now he he is simply in decorating hell.

He slouches onto the bed, flexing his calves, and waits for the crazy redheads to come to a compromise.

The next thing he knows Amelie is pulling on his toes and asking him to please get of her bed now so she can sleep.

He stumbles down the stairs to find Addison with the baby, a bottle, and a coy smile on her lips.

"You let me sleep all afternoon."

"Dinner is in the refrigerator."

"You let me sleep all afternoon," he repeats, astounded.

"Next week I get a nap," she assures him, turning her attention back to Avery, fussing over the lilac spotted blanket covering her tiny bare toes.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"So...tonight?" Addison asks coyly, running her fingers through her own hair, attempting to repair the damage done by a heavy scrub cap for the last four hours.

"Tonight what?" Alex grunts, not bothering to look up at her as he drains the rest of his coffee and dunks it into a trash can near by.

He catches her glaring at him out of the corner of his eye and decides it better to fake a page and buy time to figure out what the hell else he could have done wrong this week, than it would be to give her the satisfaction of him giving up without a fight.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

He meets her the next morning for stale cereal and even staler hot chocolate in the cafeteria. His voicemail this morning at three alerted her that he wouldn't be returning any time soon.

"Ok, you win," Alex mumbles into the marshmallow on his spoon. "What is it?"

"What is what?" Addison asks innocently, distracted by her phone.

"Don't do that," Alex instructs.

"Read through my e-mail?"

"No, the thing you do...when something is wrong and you pretend it isn't wrong. Just...say it Addison. What did I forget this time?"

Last year- Amelie's birthday. Year before that- Christmas. It's not a good track record he has going.

"Anniversary," Addison answers resolutely, almost missing Derek's ability to just pretend the whole damn thing wasn't happening. At all. Ever again.

"We aren't married," Alex spews suddenly. "We don't have an anniversary," he tells her, holding up his bare left hand.

"We did last year. And the year before that. And the year before-"

"Whatever," Alex cuts her off, just in time for her to stand and dismiss him for what he presumes will be a good chunk of the week.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, and his crappy cereal as she tromps away, her skirt purposefully selected to torture him.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

He decides an all out assault is the only solution. Dusk, rooftop, one lonely violin player, and a metric ton of waxy, burning candles. It's every cliché he can think of, and he hopes it's enough to get her to stop assigning him Jacob, the world's stupidest intern, and to let him back into her O.R.s. The entire hospital has been briefed on their status just by checking in with the board, and he has better shit to worry about like Molly in 4351 who really likes her monkey toy, but really doesn't like needles, and the tiny Holstein baby.

But he's less worried about work and the epic storm brewing there than he is about this spilling over into their home life. Because they don't do that. Because even though he speaks nothing of his ridiculous family, and Addison has only ever said that she won't be her mother, they both know their children deserve better than halfhearted pleasantries and being forced into being the communicating device between them.

So he checks his pride at the door, dons a crisp tie, and crosses his fingers and toes that this will do the trick.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

He shouldn't be surprised when she ignores his pages, and calls, and the specially prepared soup grows cold in its container, frost mounting on the edges. But he is.

And he shouldn't be shocked when he looks at his watch and finds he's wasted three hours of his life up here with idiot Jacob and his violin looking like a complete douchebag with his slacks and crisp collared shirt, but he is.

The thing that sets him off though, is seeing her sitting, waiting in the lobby with her laptop spread over her knees as he passes through on the way to his car.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

There's no dead cell phone, no misstep with the batteries in her pager, no lack of spoilers floating the halls about him up on the roof waiting for his redhead.

She doesn't even bother to explain why she couldn't join him, or why she wouldn't. She simply breezes through the door, scoops up their daughters and marches off to the master bedroom where he is certain they will be holed up all night, watching movies, talking about absolutely nothing important.

He finds a cold beer in the refrigerator, pops the top, rips his tie off and maniacally leaves it on the counter to enrage her, and then proceeds to the television to stare mindlessly at scrolling sports scores.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

When he's had his fill of beer, sadly only two, and some old crackers, and their highly comfortable couch he decides to crash their girl party. He steals Avery from her mother's arms easily, holding her closely, the smell of her fresh hair wafting under his nose as he stoops to place her in her own crib down the hall.

Amelie takes work though. She wakes up as he carries her to her newly appointed sage and cream colored room, and then follows him back down the hall as he attempts to get ready for bed.

He has to stop brushing his teeth four times, and it takes ten minutes to reach his sweats with her interrupting every other minute. But each time he turns, grabs her hand, and marches her back, informing her that she will not be spending the night with Mommy and Daddy, regardless of what Mommy promised.

He's one foot into bed when she comes back again, peeking in the door, smiling when Addison opens her eyes groggily.

And he figures if he was a better guy, or if it wasn't a better day, he wouldn't be losing his temper over something so dumb. But he's tired, she's annoyingly stubborn like her mother, and he's had enough.

So with little backing from Addison he turns her around and shuts the door, sinking down against it, listening to her wail pitifully on the other side, her little hands slapping the wood unjustly. When he rips it back open she stumbles, and he's waiting with an open palm that stops just short of her cheek.

Amelie doesn't see it in her tumble, but when he turns to see Addison helping her onto the bed, he knows she did.

He spends the night on the couch without another word.

And the following night, and the following, and then he finds an on call room to take up residency in.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"Coming home?" Addison asks rudely, breaking into his group of fellow doctors, who scamper immediately.

"I have paperwork," Alex shrugs.

"She didn't see, and she misses her father, they both do-"

"I saw it," Alex hisses back, leading her further away from prying ears. "I felt it, and I- can't."

"Alex, it wasn't-"

"Don't excuse it-"

"She was...being Amelie, you know that. You know how frustrating she gets, but she adores you-"

"Addison-"

"So what, are you just going to strand me with them? Because you can't get over it? Go to therapy, take a vacation, fix it."

"You were scared," Alex accuses her. "I saw the way you looked at me-"

"I was tired," Addison corrects, feeling the nudge of paranoia come swarming back into her stomach.

"Don't do that, don't be that woman Addison."

"Stop telling me what to do!" She shouts suddenly, he exit edging closer and closer.

"I gotta go," Alex makes up dumbly, shuffling off to beg into another surgery, trying to be anywhere but here.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Her face haunts him as he tosses and flips on the lumpy, dirty mattress. In his earlier years this was a perfect place to sleep, a fine place, but now he wants to be kicked as he lays next to Addison, he wants to wake up with her crazy hair spread over his face, but he doesn't think he can get over the fear he invited into their safe place, their home.

And he doesn't talk about his parents, about his father, or she would know. She would know what this is.

He was supposed to be breaking the circle not completing it.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"They're better off without me in their life," is what he tells her, trying to be rational three Sundays later as they met at the park. Avery is asleep in her stroller and he's thankful to be afforded that peace with her because he can't even look at his oldest daughter without seeing the red mark his fingers would have left on her perfect skin.

It isn't the fact that he didn't, as Addison tries to sway him into believing, it's the fact that he wanted to. The fact that he could even somehow manifest that as a solution no bother how tiring or how angering the situation. He swore to himself when Amelie was born that he wasn't going to be the Bar Dad of the Work Dad or the Creepy Dad.

"What about me?" Addison asks him, mad that he is going to make her cry in a very public place, in front of many mothers and families they both know well.

His history is all he has to go off of, and the idea of hitting Addison makes him physically ill, so he tells her the same thing, kisses her temple, kisses Avery's growing mop of red hair and gives an invisible wave to Amelie, who will probably never forgive him.

Hell, he isn't sure forgiveness is in the cards for anyone.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

She shows up three times in the middle of his transfer out of state. The last time they end up on the counter and her panties get ripped and he's going to have a very distinct scar on his neck, but it doesn't count, because Addison Montgomery has her pride, and this is the last he is ever going to see of her.

She's tense under his fingers, skin tight with anticipation and rage. She's crying when she buttons her coat in silent resignation, and he pretends not to notice as he hops back into his jeans.

In the back of his head somewhere he was thinking that she may eventually understand, but now he just thinks she's going to hate him forever.

For not giving her the damn ring like he should have, and for not insisting she change her name, and for not assigning his name to any of their possessions.

She's going to hate him for not being the dream.

He never promised anything, he reasons when the door slides shut resolutely, the final chapter echoing down the hall.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

It's easier to untangle himself from the wreckage than he thought it would be. There's no car, no house to split. The children have her legal last name, he's essentially abandoning them anyway, there's nothing to contest. He wants no part in her money and has a little bit of his own in his own account they never merged.

In the end, it's like he was never there at all.

He leaves without pictures, without clothes (though she brought them to him anyway in a fit), and without a sense of where to go. He goes with the same things he brought- a toothbrush, a degree to practice medicine, and an aching heart.

On his last day in Seattle he settles his bar tab with Joe, makes a cab turn around in rush hour, and in a heated mess leaves a scribbled note to Addison so that even if she does end up resenting him, she'll still know how much he grew to love her, to love their short domesticated bliss together.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~_  
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End file.
